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Six great actors, but no Bob Dylan

"All I can do is be me. Whoever that is." – Bob Dylan

There is not a single character in I’m Not There – a film about the legends that made up the life of Bob Dylan – actually named Bob Dylan.

Most of them don’t even look like him. The characters differ in age, race and even sex. They are John, Jack, Jude and one of them is even Billy the Kid – but they are all Bob Dylan.

Here they are, in a film about life, the legends (the true inseparable from the made-up) that have all joined hands over the years to make Bob Dylan who he is.

Whoever that is.

Which is the film’s problem – unless you go in already knowing, you won’t come out knowing any more than you walked in with.

I’m Not There features six fantastic actors (Christian Bale, Cate Blanchett, Marcus Carl Franklin, Richard Gere, Heath Ledger and Ben Whishaw), all portraying Dylan in representational embodiments that cover several aspects of the artist’s life. While none are actually referred to as Dylan, we’re to assume that the particular character of focus is as close as we’re going to get on the subject. While some of the representations are more straightforward (particularly Ledger’s, who is referred to as "Robby," the closest thing to a "Bob" we get in the film), others are more abstract, such as Richard Gere’s portrayal of Billy the Kid – a reference to a quote that Dylan often saw himself as the infamous outlaw.

While it may never pay off more to be a Dylan fan, the love of the artist is nearly a requirement for a pilgrimage through the labyrinth of symbolic allusions and the time lapses that occur in the non-linear stories that never tie up and often never quite feel like they belong in the same film.

The concept itself is absolutely brilliant: different actors all playing the same character, with each individual performance covering a different possible demeanor that Dylan was probably living at the time. Even the aspect of different film styles for each character worked well. Bale’s act is more along the lines of a documentary involving interviews and very realistic stock footage of Bale singing and even an unfocused, out-of-place but essentially well-made classic western feel of Gere riding horseback on what looks very similar to the set of Deadwood.

Still, one can only hope that Dylan fans make something from the labyrinth-like mess because all those who know little to nothing about the man (myself included) are left with the utter sense of alienation, as if we’re being punished for taking a test without having studied. While the film works as an unconventional experiment for director Todd Haynes, it lacks any desirable coherence necessary to make one’s way from story to story without any previous knowledge. The concept already limits its audience to an art-house crowd, the kind comfortable with six actors playing one person – it limits it even more by demanding they be die-hard Dylan fans.

Moments of obscurity (such as when Gere looks out into the western field and stares at a giraffe) leave the viewer feeling cheated out of what should have been a fantastic cinematic experience. Long and beautifully eloquent but utterly incoherent speeches are ruined by the fact that one feels they must obtain an encyclopedic knowledge of Dylan’s work to justify watching the film. The kind of audience for this film would never have asked Haynes to make a biopic – we’re not looking for Walk the Line – but after spending 135 minutes in a film about Bob Dylan, I’m not sure I could tell you more than five things I learned about him. The film feels like an exclusive club that we can only watch through a window, reading their lips but not really understanding what is really going on.

The true redeeming aspects of the film are the fantastic and utterly unique performances from every one of the actors playing Dylan. Obviously the one getting the most attention (deservingly so) is Blanchett, who not only makes you forget who she is, but actually makes you forget that she’s a woman. Destined to receive an Oscar nomination this year, she gives one of the best performances of her outstanding career as the drunk, drug-induced Dylan that flirted with the line between being a genius and having a complete mental breakdown. Whishaw also gives a fantastic – and limited – performance in interviews that act as the only separation between each of the stories. Ledger, Bale, Gere and particularly the young Franklin are all terrific and work individually to create one of the best ensemble pieces of the year. These actors truly are a wonder to behold.

The film is never dull and never failed to keep my attention, even if I was constantly trying to find my way through the ins and outs of its workings. As a love letter to Dylan, I’m Not There truly is a metaphorical masterpiece. But as a film for those looking to learn more about the infamous, enigmatic artist, it’s nothing more than an impossible puzzle with its pieces scattered across the floor. You’re left with a sense of adventure, of shape-shifting lifestyles and provocative mediations of the complex of the man. In the end, you can’t help but wish it were possible to get to know him – to really understand Bob Dylan.

Whoever that is.

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